In the early morning hours of January 7th, in a senseless and horrific act of arson, my grandparents' old farmhouse was destroyed. The childhood home of my father and the home I hoped to one day inhabit was set on fire by intruders and left to burn.
I questioned whether or not to post this. It's difficult to look at the pictures, at what has been lost physically and emotionally. And it is devastating to consider my father and the fact that he had to watch as the home he grew up in went up in flames, desperate yet helpless to change the outcome of the situation. However, this blog is and always has been a reflection of the events in my life, good and bad, and an outlet for me to express my feelings, which currently are a mix of grief, sympathy, incomprehension, anger and vengeance.
Following my grandmother's passing in 2009,
I had expressed what this house meant to me and to my family. As we sifted through the ashes today to salvage what we could, I realized that this chapter, the farmhouse and the life of my grandparents', has been closed, despite the fact it was not written the way we intended. We are very lucky that it was only a house, that no one was injured and despite what was lost, there are many things that we saved and took away prior to the fire. And we are very lucky that we have had opportunities to learn from the contents of the house, of a simpler forgotten era and the lives my grandparents led.
Arson is a horrific crime and I can not imagine the type of individual who can knowingly do something like this. I can only believe that karma will one day run it's course.
